


The Last Night

by Beshelarwantsahug



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 15:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beshelarwantsahug/pseuds/Beshelarwantsahug
Summary: Dazhis Athmaza awaits his execution.





	The Last Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feverchild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverchild/gifts).



Dazhis Athmaza

His cell was quiet, and his long ears picked up the maddening drip of water from one of the eaves onto the floor. The dawn was slowly reddening the sky, or what he could see of it from the tiny slit window of his cell, and his heart stirred, thumping hard against his ribs as sweat began to bead on his brow.  
“No,” He hissed to himself, digging his nails into the flat of his palm. He fought the panic, pushing it back into the dark hollows of his mind. He was not going to go to his death weeping and howling like a mindless animal. He would be calm and serene. He would not let his last actions embarrass his emperor further.  
His emperor. Dazhis’ cut, bloody lips curled into a rueful smile and he laughed into the silence. His emperor.  
He had seen the anguish in Maia’s eyes when the emperor had looked at him, wretched and chained in his cell, and he had seen the deep betrayal. Dazhis hadn’t felt anything even resembling remorse before that split second, but when it dawned on him that his emperor cared for him, for him, what was left of his soul had shuddered. He had betrayed Maia in the most unforgivable way, and yet the look in those strange, goblin eyes spoke volumes about regret.  
The silence pressed in on Dazhis’ brain, and he rattled the chains around his wrists to break it up. It wouldn’t be much longer now, he knew. Very soon, the door to his cell would open, the guards would drag him out into the air, and he would die.  
It was strange, Dazhis mused, that the concept of death had been present in his mind since early childhood. It hovered in a distant future, abstract and ominous, but without any distinct form and without any distinct emotion. Now, death loomed much closer, and much more certain, and yet it was still abstract. He could picture the manner in which he was to die, but his brain still imagined time beyond that early morning. He wondered what poor Maza apprentice would be tasked with hauling away his body, wondered about whether he would be given a burial or tossed out into some field to rot and be torn apart by carrion birds. He pictured everything with the curious anxiety of someone who would actually feel the birds’ sharp beaks ripping his flesh into long, twisting ribbons and he had to curtly remind himself that no, it would no longer matter to him. No, it would not hurt.  
The panic rose up in him again, and he could actually taste it like bile and acid on his tongue. He shook his head, and stabbed his palms with his nails yet again, but this time, the terror was much stronger. A hideous, shuddering laugh tore its way free from his lips, and he hugged his knees tightly, trying to squeeze the terror out of himself.  
“No, no, no,” He chanted softly, trying to get a grip on himself. “I will not make a fool of myself!” His voice was thin and it wavered, sounding weak and pathetic to his own ears.  
He agreed to watch, Dazhis reminded himself. He agreed to debase himself, to witness my death. I will not embarrass my emperor. Not a second time.  
The various reasons that he had betrayed Maia rushed through his head, and he remembered their conversation. He had calmly related his reasons, made his entreaty for his emperor to witness his death, and had waited. When Maia had agreed, Dazhis’ eyes had shot up to his emperor’s face, shocked and disbelieving. He did not deserve mercy, and he did not deserve the gift that Maia had given him. He would die with dignity. It was the one last thing he could do.  
The cell door suddenly slid open, and Dazhis blinked into the weak light that filtered inside. Two guards stood ready, and Dazhis balled his hands into fists and molded his mouth into an easy, relaxed smile.  
“Dazhis Athmaza. Stand, and be judged.”  
The traitor got to his feet. He forced his voice to be even and calm, but it cracked slightly as he looked at his executioners and said, softly, “Yes.”


End file.
